Monday, September 16, 2013

I started playing ice hockey towards the end of college because a bunch of people I worked with were making a team and I had all of Meg's equipment so why not get out of the ice and make a fool out of myself? It was really fun.

I continued playing hockey when I finished school and got a big girl job because there was a league strictly for women who hadn't played before and it was something social to do in that weird year where I was out of college and living at home and working and a little lost. It was really fun.

I extended my hockey career the next winter. I played in another novice league and I started playing goalie because nobody wanted to and I was surprisingly good at it. It was really fun.

The next year, I was asked to play goalie for another team of women in a league that wasn't of an enormously high skill level but was much more advanced than the beginner leagues I had previously played in. This team and this league included players with enough skill that our games resembled real hockey. My team played in some tournaments and we skated regularly and I got to know and like all of my teammates. It was really fun.

I've been on that team ever since.

It was really fun.

But it isn't anymore.

I thought that I was just burnt out at the end of last season. I thought that I was just ready to be done for the summer, ready for a break, ready to play soccer and get that damn bag out of the trunk of my car. (Do you people have any idea how big a hockey bag is?)

But, when we started our season a few weeks ago, I returned to the rink without enthusiasm. The start of the season -- the beginning of practices and games that will last from now through the end of March -- felt like an obligation. A really lengthy obligation.

It didn't used to feel like this. The season didn't seem so long. The commitment to skate a few times a week didn't seem so oppressive.

I don't know what my problem is.

I wonder if I'm just mad at simple idea of the hockey season because it mirrors The Coach's season and that stretch of time feels tortuously long. (You would think I would be grateful for the distraction.) (It doesn't help. Not even a little.)

And maybe it's just that I'm just still too overwhelmed by my new job and when work gets easier going to the rink will get easier, too.

Whatever it is, I'm not feeling it anymore.

I won't quit this year. I won't leave my team without a goalie.

That leaves me with six months to figure out if it's time to throw in the towel.

3
comments:

That feeling sucks. Hockey is such a great game and it should be fun to play, not a chore.

I felt like that coaching the girls team two years. I didn't like the thought of going to the rink anymore. And I've been skating and playing since I was 3. I switched to coaching 4 year olds last year. What a blast! Can't wait for it to start this year.

I had that feeling when I was playing in the open men's league. It got to be a chore. I changed to old fart hockey (which was still as fast as the men's league, but minus the stupid stuff...like fighting). And hockey became fun again. I start on Sunday...and can't wait. Except it's going to cut into my golf time. Oh well...

Maybe you just need a change in scenary? It's such a great game to have to quit because of that feeling, but I understand where you're coming from.

One of the best things about being an adult is not having to do the things that you do not want to do. Of course, honor those commitments and then next year, there will be more time for all of the things you love.

Hi. I'm A.

Born, raised, educated in the Midwest, I am such a Midwesterner. So Midwestern, if you will.

I am: a blogger of 8+ years, forever searching for my next athletic challenge, hopelessly overscheduled and always, always eating.

I started So Midwestern right after I graduated from college, hoping to chronicle my transition to adulthood. Graduate school, four half marathons, two new nephews, three apartments, a trip to Africa, a sprinkle of heartbreak, dozens of unfinished knitting projects, four turns as a bridesmaid, 8,913 job applications and two full-time positions later: I’m fairly convinced that the day when I feel like a legitimate, full-fledged grownup will never come. So I’ll just keep on blogging.

I write about a little bit of everything and a lot of nothing. Toss my ramblings with a few pictures, a touch of swearing and an endless appreciation for the beauty that is David Beckham and you have So Midwestern. Welcome.